


Flare

by reversetheuniverse



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 19:58:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2401046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reversetheuniverse/pseuds/reversetheuniverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He dumped me," she says, a whimsical laugh slipping through the tone. He knew that was the reason she showed up, that seemed to be the only reason she visited anymore, but he never complained. Any moment with her was golden, and he hardly ever wanted to waste it with ridiculous desires and notions of things that will never be fulfilled.</p><p>Just a small drabble that I wrote for the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flare

"Dave . . . "

He's seen that expression wrought upon her face so many times he's lost count. He's met many a maid that would contort the same, but all paled in comparison to hers. He could always feel his legs go weak at the sight of it, his heart wrenching and jerking about in his chest, making its way to his throat. Her chartreuse orbs brim with salty tears, and it's two in the morning and he's in nothing but plaid pajama pants, but he invites her in anyway.

He makes her a cup of tea, as per ritual, always green, the bag left in for only three minutes upon request. He's memorized the routine like it happens daily, and to him, it almost happens too often. He sets her down on the couch, not saying a word, grabbing a blanket from the closet and draping it over her delicate shoulders. He grabs a tissue box from the bathroom and presents it to her, taking the liberty of wiping the wet mascara from her porcelain cheeks. She sniffles and he holds up another tissue, letting her blow into, even though she insists she can do it herself. When the timer goes off, he returns to the tea, discarding the soiled tissue into the trashcan on the way over.

He removes the bag, dipping it a couple of times in the mug before placing it on a napkin on the counter, making his way over to the blubbering mistress. She mutters a silent, " _Thank you_ ", pressing her lips to the mug and taking a sip of the hot leaf water. She tells him with a weak smile that he's perfected it by now, the concoction. He doesn't grin back, only keeping steady watch on her. She hums beneath her breath a barely recognizable tune, but it still flutters in his ears, as if it were meant for him in the first place.

When she's finished with her drink, she hands the cup to him and he takes care of it, placing it on the marble counter top and then ushering his self back to his designated spot on the coffee table, across from her. She's calmed down much since she first invited herself in, but her chest still rises and falls in stutters, heaving sobs still caught inside of her. His eyes lie fixated on hers, and she doesn't take notice of it, at first. Her gaze remains caught up with the paneling, her chartreuse orbs moving around as if tracing each groove and turn carved in the wood. He dares disturb her, breaking her trance, twisting her face back to him with his hand. She jumps from surprise, not realizing she had been distracted.

"What happened, Jade?" he finally breathes, and he almost thinks it's the wrong set of words, because the thought sends her back to a fit of waterfalls, almost, but she has some restraint this time, putting on her best, strained smile for him.

"He dumped me," she says, a whimsical laugh slipping through the tone. He knew that was the reason she showed up, that seemed to be the only reason she visited anymore, but he never complained. Any moment with her was golden, and he hardly ever wanted to waste it with ridiculous desires and notions of things that will never be fulfilled.

"I didn't like him, anyway," comes his usual response, almost an echo through time now, a compact disc on repeat. She nods her head lightly, twiddling her thumbs together on her lap in a nervous fit. He realizes that she doesn't want to hear the same thing over and over again, but he doesn't ever really quite know what to say in these situations, despite being the one caught in them so often. He watches a stray tear escape it's way down her cheek and he wipes it away, startled when she keeps it clasped to her skin with her own hand.

Her eyes don't meet his, remaining shut tight, but he sees a smile spread upon her face, as if that was the cure for her unhappiness, him holding her face tightly with his own two hands. An idea creeps into his mind and in a flash he listens to it without even registering what it was to begin with. His other hand settles on the opposite cheek, and he pulls her close to him as he rests his lips upon hers, drinking in her essence with each tender touch. She's sickly saccharine, but he doesn't mind one bit, and she eases into the kisses, quickly getting used to the feeling of his coarse skin upon her fragile skin. He flicks his tongue across her lower lip, feeling satisfaction when a soft moan escapes from the back of her throat.

She never once pushes him away, except only to breathe. He begins to trail his lips across her skin, from her cheek, to her neck, to her shoulder, and she exposes the skin to him to do so. His fingers press into the side of her hips, pulling her onto him as he shifts onto the couch. She rests her forehead on his for a brief moment, and her eyes flicker open at the same time as his do, and he can tell that she wants him as much as he does, and hell, when was there a time that he didn't want her? She presses her lips forcefully against his, hungrily pleading for more of his kisses, which he has no trouble satisfying.

She melts into his grasp, and the only thought that plagues his mind is why he never did this before, why he never told her she was the only thing he ever thought of when his head hit his pillow at night, or when his calloused fingers graced the records he spun, or any minute of the day, really. He wonders to himself if she really does reciprocate, or if this is just a one time deal, and he thinks he's blew it when only minutes later the words, _"I love you"_ , escape from his lips, but all he needs to know she hums back, and it's all he needs for a lifetime, for an eternity.

_"I love you, too."_


End file.
